Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1)

by Knightly, Sophia

  She chose a eucalyptus scented body gel and shampoo and stepped onto the wooden floorboard of the glass paneled steam shower. She looked around, entranced by the many choices before her: a hand held showerhead, an eight-jet acupuncture massage shower beside a small cedar bench, and an oversized rainfall ceiling shower. Within seconds, she stood in the soothing mist of a eucalyptus-scented rainfall, feeling as if she were in a tropical rain forest.

  Fifteen minutes later, restored and invigorated by the hot shower, Veronique rubbed her squeaky-clean body with a plush towel. Good thing Nick’s black T-shirt reached her knees because she’d have to go sans panties and bra until they dried.

  She washed her delicate under things by hand, but her outer clothing needed a good washing in a machine. Hopefully, she could get them in the washer and dryer before the power went out. She hung her panties and bra on a towel rack and rolled her jeans and tee in the towel she’d just used to dry off. The other towel was snugly wrapped around her head, turban-style.

  Veronique had just taken a deep whiff of Nick’s after shave when loud knocks on the door nearly made her drop the bottle. She jumped at the sound of his deep voice.

  “Aren’t you finished yet? You’ve been in there a long time,” he said.

  “Yeah, be right out.”

  She recapped the bottle and put it back in the cabinet so quickly, the door closed shut with a loud thump.

  “Quit snooping,” he said gruffly.

  She giggled at being caught red-handed, rifling through his personal stuff. Nick knew her too well.

  “Hurry up. There’s someone here to see you,” he added.

  Veronique’s heartbeat tripped up and her throat constricted. Who could it possibly be? Nobody knew where she was, not even Teddy, her close childhood friend whose family lived in South Beach.

  Who would be there to see her in the middle of the storm?

  She felt the blood drain from her face as her body tensed, remembering the reason she was there.

  Chapter Four

  “Who’s here to see me?” Veronique cautiously opened the door and craned her toweled head from left to right, her eyes apprehensive as she scanned the area.

  “Rrruff!”

  She jumped when a chocolate Labrador retriever puppy nudged her knee with his wet nose and barked.

  “Why are you so jumpy? I just wanted you to meet Baxter,” Nick said. Ronnie sure was acting agitated over nothing.

  “Baxter?” She pointed to the lab suspiciously. “Is this who you said was waiting to see me?”

  “Yeah.” Nick watched her struggle to regain her composure as she pet Baxter’s fur and cooed over the dog. She’d always been an open book and it galled him to suspect that she was trying to hide something. “Who did you think it was?”

  She gave a dismissive shrug. “Never mind. I’m glad you have a dog. He’s so cute. Where’d you get him?”

  The alluring curve of Veronique’s pale, slim thighs snared Nick’s attention when she bent forward and scratched Baxter’s ears. He noted the sway of her high, round breasts. She probably wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.

  Nick looked away and cleared his throat as he hardened with unbidden desire. “He’s the gardener’s dog. I offered to keep him during the hurricane. He spends a lot of time here anyway.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, giving Baxter a snug, little rubdown. “But why didn’t your gardener evacuate and take his dog? Does he live on the island?”

  “Yes, there’s a group of workers who live in a small house on the grounds of a large estate on the northern tip. They live there in exchange for taking care of the house and gardens while the owners are up north. They only come down in February and March.”

  “Sounds like a good arrangement all around.” She straightened and tugged at the T-shirt’s hem, making a production of smoothing it over the backs of her bare thighs as she sauntered by.

  Nick’s gaze gravitated to the cheeky sway of her bottom. From the way it jiggled slightly, he was certain she was bare there too. Hot lust swelled in his veins, thick and opulent.

  “I’m starving,” she said over her shoulder. “Can we eat now?”

  “Sure,” he said and forced his gaze away from the tempting sight.

  “Looks delish.” She smiled as he served her a bowl of minestrone soup and a ham and cheese sandwich. “Let’s have some of that wine I brought.”

  Nick filled two wine glasses with Malbec and joined her at the kitchen table.

  “Thanks.” She clinked his glass with hers. “Here’s to old times, Nick.”

  He wondered at the vast relief on her face when she’d found out the visitor was his dog. Just a few minutes ago, she’d looked shocked and then relieved. Now she looked too damned comfortable.

  With her face scrubbed clean and her shampooed hair wrapped in a towel, Veronique looked fresh and appealing. Her small pink earlobes drew his attention as he imagined how they’d taste between his lips. His gaze roved over her velvety neck and lower to her nipples where they pebbled against the soft cotton fabric of his T. Another tightening of lust made him adjust his position on the hard chair.

  She was going to be trouble.

  “How come I didn’t meet Baxter earlier?” she asked, drawing attention to her pursed mouth.

  “He was in the backyard.”

  “No wonder I didn’t see him. It’s an awfully big yard.” She motioned toward her bowl. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  “I’m not hungry. I ate a while ago.”

  “That never stopped you before. You used to wolf down every meal or snack that came your way.”

  Well hell, I was making up for the lack of food during the rest of the year. It was feast and famine during the four years he’d worked as a summer camp counselor. Famine during the school year when his mom could barely feed his little sister and him, and feast at camp when he could eat all the good food the rich little kids turned their noses up at.

  Nick’s paychecks those summers had gone toward paying for the family groceries. His mom had worked two jobs to make sure he and his sister ate and had a roof over their heads. They’d never gone on food stamps, but they’d also eaten the cheapest ground beef in every way imaginable. He had vowed early on never to eat ground beef or peanut butter again.

  “I never saw anyone eat so much,” Veronique continued.

  Nick snorted. “Yeah, unlike you little rich girls who thought the camp food beneath you.”

  “I did not. I wasn’t eating because I thought a hunger strike would get me out of there so I could go home and check on Daddy.” She jutted her chin. “When that didn’t work, I gave up because I was starving.”

  He hiked a cynical brow. “How long did it take before you caved—one skipped meal?”

  “No. Two or three,” she admitted with a wry smile.

  “You girls didn’t know how good you had it. Even if I was working 24/7, it was a luxury to do camp activities I’d always craved growing up.”

  “Such as?”

  “Horseback riding, canoeing, hiking, swimming, those sorts of thing. Living the life—if only for three months a year.”

  She smiled. “You were a natural athlete. Still are.”

  “Thanks.”

  “At the time, you didn’t seem to resent us.” She leaned her chin on her hand and regarded him with pensive eyes. “Did you?”

  “Only when you got me in trouble. Your skinny dipping exploit nearly got me fired from a job I badly needed.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with skinny dipping. Frankly, the fewer clothes I wear the happier I am,” she said with a shameless smile. “I’m sure you’ve done it too.”

  “It’s one of the perks of living in isolation. But a little girl has no business swimming buck-naked in broad daylight, especially when at thirteen you already had a woman’s figure.”

  “I thought everyone had gone horseback riding. How was I to know you were still around?”

  “Your socialite mama was pretty s
candalized that I had seen her precious little darling in her birthday suit. Luckily, the camp director didn’t budge in defense of me.”

  “I went to bat for you too,” she reminded him.

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  “Anyway, all that’s in the past. You didn’t get fired and you’re a success story.”

  He took a long swig of the wine. The admiration on Veronique’s face ate at him like acid. She had an untarnished image of him from her childhood that hadn’t been damaged by all the media hoopla. Her loyalty humbled him.

  “Hardly,” he said. “Let’s not forget the past year’s debacle.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “You’re still that successful, self-made man, Nick. What I admire most is your integrity. Nobody can take that away from you unless you let them. I never believed a word of all that crap the media put out there.”

  “Thanks,” he said, touched by her faith in him. Even as a child, she’d been his champion. Especially when she’d stood up to her Mom after the skinny dipping episode and fought for him like a tigress.

  “I want to present your side of the story.” Veronique’s green eyes blazed with zeal. “When people hear you—”

  “No. Let’s change the subject,” he cut in abruptly. He felt badly when her eyes clouded with hurt, but knowing Ronnie, she’d continue to try to wear him down unless he was firm.

  She lapsed into silence, a rarity for her. He should have enjoyed the respite, but for some reason he felt like talking tonight—just not about the past year’s calamity. He hated to admit it, but Ronnie’s lively personality entertained him.

  Nick watched her finish the minestrone soup and share her sandwich with Baxter, who gratefully licked her hand after each morsel. At camp, she had always had bits of apple or carrots in her pockets to feed her horse before and after riding it.

  When she finished eating, her green eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed pink with vitality. She looked eager to take on the world as she pushed her chair back and rose from the table.

  Nick snagged her wrist and tugged her back down. “Not so fast. I have questions for you,” he said, noting how slight her slim wrist felt in his hand.

  “Sure, fire away, Nick.” With a quizzical lift of her brows, she glanced at his hand circling her wrist.

  He released it and asked, “Why were you so spooked earlier?”

  “Spooked? When?” Her feigned innocence annoyed him.

  “When you thought someone was here to see you,” he prompted.

  She shrugged. “You surprised me, that’s all. Nobody knows I’m here. Who would come all the way out here in the middle of a hurricane just to see little ole me?”

  Nick leveled a firm look at her. “I want the truth. All of it.”

  She drummed her fingernails on the table.

  He covered her hand with his to stop the annoying sound. Big mistake, her hand felt incredibly soft and delicate under his, giving him a jolt of pleasure.

  “I’m waiting. Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “Heck no!” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Have you made any enemies lately?”

  She shifted in the seat, and her round breasts swayed slightly drawing his appreciative gaze. She might look sexy as hell in his T shirt, but he’d have the truth, and he’d have it now.

  “Maybe.” She nibbled on her lower lip reflectively. “A few, I guess. But in my job, that’s inevitable.”

  “Sounds like you need to be careful, Ronnie. Enemies in your line of work are dangerous.”

  “Let’s not talk about that.” Veronique stroked the wineglass stem with her pointer finger and kept her eyes averted. She blithely ignored his concern as she took a sip of wine and said in a light tone, “I’m here to do human interest stories after Hurricane Abby. I had fun interviewing a group in Fort Myers called the ‘preppers’.”

  “The preppers?” He gave her a dubious look. “Do they work in a hospital?”

  Veronique chuckled. “Nooo, but I guess it sounds like they do. They’re dedicated to being prepared for any emergency, whether it’s a natural disaster like a hurricane or an economic one. Some of their members are pretty hard core.”

  Nick’s brows drew together as he regarded her keenly. “What do you mean by that?”

  “They own farm animals and grow their own food so they can have enough provisions for three or four months in case of an emergency. Many are trained in weaponry too.”

  “How big is the group?”

  “It’s estimated at about three million throughout the U.S.”

  “Interesting. Should make a good story.”

  “Thanks. That’s not the only story I want to write.” She paused and gave him a hesitant smile. “Actually… I was hoping you’d give me an exclusive interview.”

  He wanted to wring her neck. “No. I already told you I won’t do any interviews,” he said in a taut voice. “If it wasn’t for the storm, you’d be gone by now.”

  “Please reconsider.” She watched him with earnest eyes. “You’ve lived life by a strong code of ethics and high ideals. It’s not fair the way the press has treated you. I can help clear your name.”

  “No interview. You’re not going to wear me down, damn it. Don’t mention it again,” he gritted out forcefully.

  “Fine, I won’t.” Veronique’s shoulders started to slump, but just as quickly she snapped them back and straightened her spine. She laid a slim hand on his biceps that felt delicate on his arm. Once again, he was struck by the soft silkiness of her skin.

  “Thanks for putting me up tonight. It’ll give us a chance to catch up after all these years.”

  She was a fresh one, acting like they were old friends. He couldn’t resist having a little fun with her as he said cryptically, “If you knew the history of this house you wouldn’t want to stay even one night.”

  Veronique’s eyes sparkled in a lively face awash with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

  He took his time scratching Baxter’s ears and head before he answered, adding to her eagerness. “A few years back there was a gruesome murder/suicide committed in this mansion. It’s said to be haunted by ghosts.”

  She leaned forward, her face flushed with excitement. Her appetite for details and information was unquenchable. He gave a short bark of laughter. It sounded so rusty he realized he hadn’t laughed in a long, long time. Another reason he had to send her packing. Being around Ronnie, one was bound to laugh with the way she lived exuberantly. She had a ready smile and a playful twinkle in her eyes that made him want to pull her in for a long, deep kiss.

  Her arched brows knitted as she gave him a puzzled look. “Why did you laugh?”

  “You’re a nosy little cat,” he said, making sure not to say sexy instead of nosy.

  She grinned, eyes sparkling. “Not nosy, just interested.”

  He remained silent, knowing she wouldn’t let it go.

  “Tell me about the ghosts. When exactly did the murder happen?” she asked.

  “’Bout five years ago. Nobody comes around here except my housekeeper and the gardener.”

  “Really?” Veronique’s bright eyes widened. “Do they know about the ghosts?”

  “Why so many questions?"

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “What’s wrong with asking questions? You throw out a story about ghosts and a murder/suicide, and then expect me not to want the facts.”

  “Some other time.” Nick’s eyes zeroed in on her. “You were planning on staying here from the beginning, weren’t you?”

  She blinked. “Why do you say that?”

  “While you were in the shower, I moved your car up close to the side of the house and I found your suitcase in the trunk.”

  “Oh, well…” She had the grace to look sheepish.

  “No more tricks and we’ll get along while you’re here. You can stay until it’s safe for you to leave and then it’s adiós. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she said amiably. “I’ll be gone before you kn
ow it.”

  Right. The little schemer was probably already hatching a plan to stay longer.

  “Where did you put my suitcase?” she asked.

  “In the first bedroom down the hall, past the bathroom. I’m going to listen to the news now.”

  “I’ll join you as soon as I rinse the dishes.”

  Nick nodded and headed for the living room on stiff legs. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the tempting jiggle of her cute ass beneath his T-shirt and the curve of her bare breasts nestled inside his shirt.

  Down, boy, he told himself with a wry shake of his head.

  Chapter Five

  A booming crack of thunder jarred Veronique awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and switched on the lamp beside the bed. Hurricane Abby was finally here.

  She usually slept naked, but tonight she had slept in Nick’s T-shirt and bikini panties. She ran to peek out the window, but stopped when she rememberd it was shuttered. She hefted her purse, which carried her life’s essentials and reporter’s tools, onto her shoulder, grabbed a flashlight and then inched her way down the corridor in search of Nick’s room. Just as she turned a corner, an earsplitting crash stopped her cold—that and the impact of bumping into something solid.

  “Oomph!” she said, colliding smack into Nick’s bare chest. “What was that noise?”

  “I’m not sure. Could be one of the big trees was hit by lightning.” Nick steadied her waist. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t the hurricane, but Nick’s strong hands on her that was making her weak-kneed. She forced steel into her backbone and eased out of his grip. “I’m pretty stoked about the hurricane. It’s going to make a great story.”

  Nick cursed. Obviously, he didn’t share her excitement.

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand, switched on the hall light and pulled her towards the master suite, with Baxter panting at his heels. When they entered, a crackling bolt of lightning struck, followed by a blast of deafening thunder. The hall light went out and the house was draped in darkness. “Quick, get into the master closet.”